Omnipotence: Book I: Odyssey

by Geoff Gaywood

  In their private debates on these issues, Arlette and her aides realised that those with practical knowledge of industrial development on Earth would constantly be pushing the colony to emulate the home they knew. Without a plan which targeted very specific development goals, and provided the skills and resources to achieve it, frustration and eventually conflict would grow.

  When Arlette mentioned these issues briefly to Genes, he responded in his usual casual, off-the-cuff fashion, “Why not get into shipbuilding? We have wood, wind and the need to explore. That’s how they did it in the fifteenth century.”

  It was a seminal idea, an activity in which almost everyone could contribute in some way, and when it was informally proposed the response was almost universal approval.

  * * *

  Back on Prometheus, Kusnetsov had been entertaining himself by analysing the data that the satellite had collected on the LDST just before it imploded. He invited Cobus over for a chat. “You know, I’m beginning to come to the conclusion that the instant you chose to send that instruction to the asteroid to change course was probably the greatest coincidence in the history of space travel,” he told Cobus.

  Cobus suddenly felt very uneasy. “Sorry?” he said.

  “Yes,” went on Kusnetsov, “it looks to me that you hit the diametric centre of the LDST system with your seventy-two million tons of junk, and that’s what caused it to destabilise.”

  “But … but that was an accident!”

  “Yes, I know! But an incredibly lucky one for us and incredibly unlucky for Andromeda!”

  Cobus stared at him. “Oh my God,” he said under his breath.

  Despite his misgivings, Cobus was now a hero on Prometheus. He had told his story many times, but always left out the bit about his ninety-six seconds’ hesitation – it just didn’t sound very professional. He was, however, to be undone by a presentation that Kusnetsov gave after he had finished his study on the implosion of LDST 2. Julia, always keen to improve her physics, attended, and she pricked up her ears when she heard the words ‘greatest coincidence in the history of space travel’. She looked at Cobus, and Cobus looked away.

  ‘There’s something I need to know,’ she said to herself, and she collared him immediately after the presentation was finished.

  “Come and have a chat, Cobus,” she said. “I’d like to hear the story from the horse’s mouth.”

  Back in her office he told her about the preparation, the decisions that had been made and how they had been made. He praised Henri, Marcel and Arlette for their foresight and made himself out to be a minor operative, but he scrambled the bit about activating the instruction to the asteroid to change course. Julia, who had listened patiently, picked it up immediately.

  “Take me over that bit again, Cobus,” she said. “Did you send the instruction to change course immediately you picked it up that the alien ship had changed lanes?”

  “Er, no, not quite,” said Cobus.

  “Why not?”

  “I, er, I had a bit of cramp,” he said.

  “You had a bit of cramp, so you didn’t press the key?”

  “Right,” said Cobus.

  “And how long did your cramp last?”

  “Ninety-six seconds,” said Cobus.

  “Ninety-six seconds? Not eighty-five seconds, or a hundred and three? How do you know?”

  Cobus looked down for what seemed like a long time.

  “It felt as though I was being told,” he said.

  Julia’s tone softened. “You heard a voice in your head?”

  He looked up sharply. “Yes, sort of,” he said.

  “Tell me exactly what it said.”

  “It said, ‘Wait 96 seconds’ and then ‘now’.”

  “And you obeyed it?”

  “Yes,” said Cobus.

  “Why?”

  “I couldn’t move my hand and…”

  “You could have used the other one.”

  “I didn’t want to.”

  “Alright, Cobus,” said Julia. “That must have been a very special moment for you. Have you thought about it much since?”

  “Yes I have,” said Cobus. “I thought I’d made a terrible mistake but now it seems like … like it was kind of inspired.”

  “And where do you think this voice came from?”

  Cobus just shook his head.

  Julia called Arlette privately and related what she had just heard. There was silence for a while and then Arlette responded quietly, “So, it’s not just me who is psychic.”

  “I don’t think psychic is quite the right word any more,” said Julia. “I think we have to recognise that two events of vital importance to us have been influenced in our favour by some external agency.”

  “And who or what do you suppose is that agency?” enquired Arlette.

  “I don’t know, but I can’t get around the possibility that it is using us to undermine the alien threat.”

  “You believe Genes’ little parable about the Gods of the Milky Way and Andromeda?”

  “Not quite, but it fits,” said Julia.

  Arlette let her head fall back and she stared up into the pale blue sky of Ceres for a long time. Then she jumped up and started walking quickly, calling up Henri as she went. “Get together with Marcel and link up with Julia and Cobus,” she said. “We have something important to discuss.”

  The meeting took place in the freshly furnished conference room at the Orange House, with a video link to Julia’s office on Prometheus. Arlette wasted no time on other matters.

  “I want to tell you about the experience I had when we were knocked out of orbit by Dark Shadow,” she said. “You remember that we were tumbling and spinning out of control and Genes was trying to correct the problems with a booster thrust. A set of coordinates came into my head and I instructed him to follow them. He did so and the ship corrected its attitude and escaped back into orbit.” She paused. Everyone was watching her intently.

  “Well,” went on Arlette, “I did not calculate those coordinates; the data just came into my head and I repeated it. I have given a lot of thought as to how that happened and have concluded that the data was put into my mind by some external agency, rather like earphone input which goes straight to our cognitive centres. One possible motivation for this would be to protect our galaxy from an external intruder, but I have no proof of that. Cobus, I believe you had a similar experience?”

  Cobus looked hugely relieved. He no longer felt alone, and the concept, as Arlette had expressed it, sounded entirely reasonable.

  “Well, ja,” he said, “that sounds very similar to what happened to me when I saw that Silver Streak had changed lanes in LDST 2. I was going to send the instruction to First Defence to change course, but something told me to wait ninety-six seconds, so I did. Now Yev tells me that that delay almost certainly caused the LDST to implode.”

  Henri and Marcel looked at each other, incredulous.

  “Now,” said Arlette, “on the assumption that Cobus and I are not gifted with analytical capabilities far in advance of anything we ever dreamt of, I conclude that the input we received probably came from the same source, with the same motivation. Does anybody have any other ideas?”

  Nobody did.

  “In that case,” went on Arlette, “there may be something out there with immense power and influence, and since we shall probably be confronted with aggression from Silver Streak shortly, it seems to me that we should do more than just hope we get some more fortuitous input just at the right moment. So, the question we have to address is: ‘how do we do that?’”

  “Supposing we assume that Genes’ parable is on the right track,” said Henri. “That there is, in our own primitive terms, a God of the Milky Way.”

  “Wow!” said Marcel, breaking the tension. “General Lee would be really impressed with our networking!”

  Arlette wanted very badly to say, “Fuck General Lee!” but she resisted. “Let’s continue with this,” she said. “If our assumption is c
orrect, then we can only expect help if it is consistent with the best interests of the Milky Way galaxy.”

  “That’s a can of worms,” said Marcel. “Is our colonisation of Ceres in the interests of the galaxy?”

  “Clearly yes,” said Julia. “We are intelligent and want to survive. We have put up a fight against an enemy of the Milky Way to defend our civilisation, which we have now extended to a planet which was uninhabited and vulnerable to assault by aliens. We are adding value to the galaxy.”

  “Well, fine, but I think we can assume that we’re not going to get help with the washing-up.”

  “OK, Marcel, OK – your point is presumably that it has to be a matter of great strategic importance for the galaxy? Then I’m sure we agree,” said Julia.

  “Does our survival count, even if the galaxy is no longer under a direct threat because we blew away the LDST?” Marcel persisted.

  “I would think so, yes” said Arlette. “We are, as far as we know, the only intelligent beings in the Omega 16 system, and consequently the only agency that can prevent the Andromedans from invading. They’ve shown an interest in this star system, presumably because the rocky planets are of potential value to them. Who’s to say they can’t create another wormhole and come back?”

  A rather dark silence descended on the meeting.

  “Look, the point I’m making”, said Arlette, “is that we are a strategic asset in the fight with Andromeda. As long as we are willing to fight the Andromedans to hold on to Ceres, we deserve support.” She looked from face to face. They were all nodding.

  “Good. Then let’s make damn sure we put up a good show when Silver Streak comes looking for us.”

  Henri and Marcel got up.

  “Oh, and one final point,” she went on. “I want to bring Genes into this. I know his record is despicable, but he’s by far the best motor man we have, and, if we’re going to tangle with Silver Streak, I’ll need him again. Is that OK?” No one protested, not audibly anyway.

  A few days later, back on Prometheus, Arlette summoned Genes to her office. “What’s the status of the asteroid defence system?” she asked him.

  “We have six asteroids in various orbits around Ceres, and one around each of the moons. Well, of course, they are in elliptical orbits, but you get my drift.” Arlette nodded. “Since the bandits cannot control them, but will assume that we can, it should make them pretty twitchy about entering orbit around Ceres. So, firstly it’s a deterrent.”

  “Why only eight?” asked Arlette. “I thought you wanted twelve?”

  “Yeah, that would have been ideal, but it’s all the parasite controllers we had left.”

  “Oh,” said Arlette. “Does it still give you complete coverage?”

  “Pretty good, but not complete,” replied Genes. “There’s a window of scope to move each one at any particular time, and at any particular time we can hit just about any spot with at least one of them. But it can be a bit tricky making the calls.” This was about as close to modesty as Genes was ever going to get in his life.

  “Do you have a battle plan?” Arlette asked him.

  “Vaguely. I think we should play hide-and-seek around Ceres and the moons and get the asteroids to do the dirty work for us. I still need to discuss the details with Bertin.”

  “OK, now there’s something personal I want to discuss with you,” said Arlette.

  Genes’ eyes twinkled. “Hey lady, I’m ready to get personal just as soon as you are.”

  Arlette glared at him. “Was that supposed to be a pass?” she demanded. “Are you trying to add harassment to murder and treachery on your crime sheet?”

  Genes briefly considered another playful remark and then thought better of it. “No, Ma’am,” he said seriously. “I’ve told you before that I have great respect for you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Now what I am going to tell you is known only to my core team. I’m going to let you in on it because you were in the firing line last time and will probably be there again.”

  Arlette repeated what she and Cobus had told the others, and their conclusions. Genes listened, nodding intermittently.

  “Well,” he said, “I stand by what I said before. Whoever generated those coordinates has a near perfect grasp of dynamics. I would take those orders anytime.”

  “Good,” said Arlette. “That’s the way it has to be.”

  33

  The Battle of Ceres

  Cobus looked glumly at his monitor. There was no doubt about it, Silver Streak was not on a peaceful mission to explore Omega 16-4, it was on its way to Ceres. Arlette took note of his report, then called in Julia.

  “We have to be pragmatic,” she said. “If Prometheus comes to grief in this battle, then our colony on Ceres becomes more important than ever. There will be later missions from Earth, I have no doubt, but it is vital that our bridgehead thrives in the meantime. I want you to go down there and replace Marcel, at least for the duration of the battle. I need his scientific brain engaged up here to make sure we win.”

  “But if we lose Prometheus the colony will be marooned!” protested Julia.

  “Not so,” said Arlette. “You have direct communication with Earth from there via our satellite at the mouth of LDST 1.”

  Julia thought it over. She knew she had no military skills to contribute, but she hated the idea of sitting on Ceres, doing nothing more than keeping her fingers crossed.

  Arlette read her mind. “It will tax your leadership skills to the limit to keep everybody calm and focused while all this is going on, and even more so if the outcome is bad,” she said, “but I must have a leader of your calibre down there, Julia.”

  ‘I’m being soft-soaped,’ thought Julia, ‘but I suppose it makes sense.’

  “Alright, I’ll go.”

  It was bright and blustery when Julia walked down the ramp from the lander. Marcel came out to meet her. “I just want to bring you up to speed,” he said, putting an arm on her shoulder and guiding her into the Orange House. They sat in his office, now to be hers, and discussed practical details.

  “We only have one doctor down here; all the rest of the medical staff are on Prometheus,” he told her. “I think we ought to organise a training programme so that he can transfer his experience to as many people here as want to get involved in case something happens to him. I suspect we are in for a rash of pregnancies.”

  Julia nodded.

  “More immediately,” he went on, “there is a lot of anxiety about being cut off if the battle goes badly for Prometheus. We do have the satellite link of course, and I think we should open it up so that people can watch current events on Earth, albeit with a twelve-hour delay. I would point out to General Lee that the morale of the colonists here is vitally important. He might want to put together a panel to respond to daily questions. That could be useful for everybody; we’re almost all amateurs now. Finally,” he lowered his voice, “please look after Mpho for me; she’s very frightened that I won’t be coming back.”

  Julia nodded again. “Of course I will.”

  The departure of Marcel and the other returnees marked the first time that there had not been a lander parked on the edge of the base. Arlette had ordered them both back to ensure that she had all available offensive capability at her disposal, but it made the place seem forlorn and abandoned. Julia decided that she would counter that immediately. “Get me a big sound system set up in the meeting hall,” she told Communications, “and find me a DJ. We’re going to have a party tonight.”

  Henri was sitting with Arlette, Marcel, Cobus, Chuck Connolly and Genes, looking at an animated 3-D projection of Ceres and its two moons, which included Prometheus and the eight attack asteroids.

  “We estimate that Silver Streak will enter this orbit here.” He pointed. “And Prometheus will be here, behind moon 1.”

  “The moons have been named Apple and Pear by the Orange House. Let’s stick to that,” said Arlette.

  “OK, we’ll be behind Apple, on thi
s orbit.” He pointed again. “We will have a fix on his position at all times because we have set up three tracking satellites to do just that, but he won’t be able to see us when we shift our orbital position.” He paused for a drink.

  “As soon as he is in stable orbit, Genes will select the asteroid with the most favourable trajectory and alter its course to achieve impact, and he will keep doing that until we are successful. We do not intend to expose Prometheus to direct conflict with Silver Streak, nor are we going to be firing any missiles unless I decide to instruct Chuck to do so. We do have the landers armed and ready, but again they will only engage with Silver Streak as a secondary tactic.”

  “Why would any particular targeted asteroid attack be unsuccessful?” Arlette wanted to know.

  “Two reasons,” Cobus interjected. “Firstly the parasite guidance equipment could be damaged, or secondly, Silver Streak moves at the last minute. Parasite is not a smart system; it cannot home in on a target and make last-minute course corrections. Each change of course must be made by a specific instruction from the motor man.”

  “Isn’t that a bit of an oversight?” asked Marcel.

  “Not really,” said Cobus. “The system was designed to steer unwelcome asteroids out of harm’s way, not to attack alien spaceships.”

  As Silver Streak approached, the Prometheus battle team took up their positions in the control centre while the pilots waited at the launch platform. They all watched the satellite pictures as the huge ship began to manoeuvre for orbital entry. As it was doing so, three streaks of fire shot out from the middle section.

  “Three alien missiles launched!” reported Cobus.

  “Chuck, anti-missile defences up!” shouted Henri.

  “They ain’t coming here,” said Genes with disgust. “They’re going after our asteroids.”

  He was hunched over his console, punching in commands.

  “Dang. Now move!” He hit the entry key.

  “Asteroid six down,” reported Cobus.

  There was a communal groan in the control centre.

  “Asteroid three down.”

  A long silence. Genes continued to battle with his keyboard. Finally he leant back. “Lost two, saved one,” he said, “but five is on track!”